A Place Nearby
by imperfectionist
Summary: Here you go! A short B/V about why Bulma left Yamcha. It's angsty, so be warned! There's also quite a bit of swearing, and I think that's it. So please review! Please?


I didn't plan on having this up for a while, but I decided to finish it. There could be a sequel for you guys...if I get some reviews, that is.

**_DISCLAIMER: What?!? You already know I don't own anything! Nothing, you here me?!? I own nothing!_**

_Have you ever known someone who treated you horribly, but you ignored it? Or maybe you loved them too much, and you couldn't admit to yourself that what they were doing was wrong. I'm Bulma Briefs, and this is my story. _

Last Friday, I finally called Yamcha back. He had been calling me since Tuesday, but I had refused to answer. My curiosity finally got the best of me and I picked up the phone.

"Bulma?" I heard him choke out.

"What do you want Yamcha?" I replied icily, trying not to sound as I felt. He told me there were some things he wanted to ask me. So I said to him, "Ask me then, I'm listening." He paused and then told me it was something he wanted to do face to face... 

So I hung up and walked outside. I popped my capsule and hopped on my motorbike. When I got there I sat in his recliner, which was on the other side of the room, and he sat on the couch. We argued for a while about the way things went with us. 

"What's your problem anyway?" He asked me. I glared at him.

"Well, I've been here for 45 minutes and I still don't know WHY I'm here!" He looked down at the floor and he finally admitted to having a drug problem the ENTIRE time we were dating. That really pissed me off. I had known about it at the end of our relationship, but I wasn't sure about the start or middle. 

I thought about how he used to badmouth my ex-boyfriend and other people he knew for doing that shit. What a fucking hypocrite! At one point in the conversation he brought up his ex, saying he thought that I was trying to sabotage their friendly relationship... 

I couldn't believe it. Rage filled me and I started to scream at him.

"Yamcha, you were _fucking_ your ex-girlfriend during the beginning of our relationship... and at one point you had a hard time deciding whether or not to go back to her or stay with me... _YES_, I had a problem with her! _YES_, it bothered me that the only time you saw her was when I wasn't around! _YES_, it bothered me that you seemed to hide me from her! _YES_, I became depressed because of it all... and _YOU'RE SURPRISED_?!? KAMI! You could have backed off of her just a fucking tad!"

"I never thought of it like that." He replied. Yeah right. We went through some more things and finally the arguing died down. I looked down at the floor, blinking back tears. I heard the couch squeak as he got up and hugged me. I didn't return the embrace, I just kept my face turned in the opposite direction. He tried to look me in the eye. 

"I'm sorry for the things I've done to you." I looked at him coldly and said 

"You don't have any idea do you? Not a clue at all..."

"What?"

"_YOU HURT ME YAMCHA!_ You hurt me and you have no idea how much!!! You hurt me and you don't even _REMEMBER!!!_ You hurt me and _I_ am the one who has to live with those memories the rest of my life, and _YOU_ will _NEVER_ have to face them because _YOU _were apparently cranked so high that you don't remember half of the relationship and how fucking bad it was!!! You damn near killed me! Emotionally _AND_ physically, and _YOU_ get off scot free because of a fucking drug habit!

"I don't even know why I'm here anymore... I have no idea why I drove over here for all of this shit. I can't believe that I really did waste all that time on you. And I'm the one who has to live with it, and you'll never even know. 

"You don't deserve me, you never did. I should have left at the first bad sign and I admit that it's my fault that I didn't. You don't even know what you had when you had me. And if you could remember you'd really be sorry that I left."

He then told me that his crank problem was an on and off thing, and that he did remember a lot of things about us. And that, even if he didn't remember all of it, that was enough. 

"Bulma, there is no one like you. You are the most interesting person I've ever been with, and you have so many good qualities. I was fucked up through most of it and I know that. Even when I was high, I knew I was messing up. You're right, I never thought you would leave. I think about you all of the time. I love you so much. There's not a day that goes by that I'm not sorry what happened."

"There's not a day that goes by that I'm not sorry too."

"What do you mean?"

"Because I should have known better from the start... I didn't deserve it then, and I don't deserve it now."

He started to say something else, but I stopped him with a cruel remark. The words were coming out of my mouth so fast that I don't even remember what I said, but his reply to it all was, "I couldn't have hurt you _THAT_ much."

That was it for me. I stomped off into his bathroom and stripped down to my underwear, washed my face and came back again. I stood right in front of him and said, "I want you to take a good look at me now. Look at my face without five pounds of make up on and tell me what you see!" 

And he was quiet.

So I went on, telling him, "_THIS_ is where you hit me in Tokyo, and _THIS_ is where you hit me for the first time at your house. _THESE_ are the scars that I have from rolling around on the ground with you, while you were beating my ass. Here, look at this one! _THIS_ is where you busted through your bathroom door window when I pissed you off last New Years Eve and I had to dig the glass out of the side of my nose. And _THIS_ is where you punched me in the mouth and not only scarred the inside of my lip, but chipped my tooth too."

And then I proceeded to go through the rest of my body. Showing him the scars on my shoulders, legs, abdomen, ankles, fingers, knees, back, neck, and so forth. By the time I was done he was bawling like a two year old. Fuck that, I'd had it with him playing Mr. Innocent and acting like he never did a fucking thing to me. 

While he was bawling on the couch, I still didn't let up. I was on the verge of breaking down, but I went on. "And these are just the scars on the _OUTSIDE_!!! What you did to me emotionally was _MUCH WORSE_ than _THIS!!!_" I ran back to the bathroom, hurriedly threw my clothes on, and ran out the door. The tears were streaming down my cheeks but I didn't care anymore.

I still don't know how I made it to Capsule, but regardless of what had just happened, I somehow made it back. I shuffled through the door, tears silently poring out of my eyes. I tried to calm myself in case Vegeta might be nearby. He was. Vegeta stood by the refrigerator, piling various things on a huge plate. I watched as he looked up to deliver a harsh comment before stopping to look at me in astonishment. I had _never_ cried in front of him before, no matter how many insults he threw at me. His mouth hung open a little as I broke down into loud tears. I flung myself on his chest, finding solace in the Saiyan Prince. He was taken aback, but soon his arms were draped around my tiny figure.

After I had cried for what seemed like hours, he picked me up delicately, like I was a fragile doll, and carried me up to my room. He gently set me down on the bed and turned to leave.

"No...don't go..." I whimpered, reaching out for him. His eyebrows shot up in surprise but he nodded in understanding. He climbed into the bed and wrapped his strong arms around me. I nuzzled closer to him before falling into a deep dreamless sleep, actually feeling complete.

It's been about a week now, and Vegeta is acting like nothing happened. But I can see it in his eyes, there's something there for me. I can't help but feel that this is just the beginning...

Okay, so what did you think? Please tell me! I want to be a better writer. HAPPY NEW YEARS'!

~imperfectionist~


End file.
